Mister Moon Looking In The Window

Tonight’s a full moon so I thought I’d leave you with this, written in 2003.

Mister Moon Looking In The Window🌓🌔🌔🌕

Looking in the window,
Angle forty five degrees or so,
Minutes before midnight,
TV show still going strong,
I, inspired by his song –
Who woos from distances I cannot reach,
Who, tempting me with valley eyes and mountain nose,
River mouth, a face that shows
The whole of him for one sweet night;
A peachy ball,
An all that sees.

I’m watching and he’s watching
Yet there´s nothing he can give
Except the tides, the tears,
Moon madness´fears –
From where I sit
He looks a little lost in space,
That still, still face
Accepting clouds that shroud;
Black veils erasing, chasing,
Placing his enigma high-up
On the list where from and why.
The window´s creamy moonglow.
He and I, embracing from a sky
Unmoved, a courtship undeniably
Unheard in silence.

Mister Moon Looking In The Window 5.16.2003 Love Relationships; Circling Round Nature;

Dancing In The Bed

Dancing In The Bed


It’s 8:15 a.m. I’m still

Asleep when you come in the room.

The radio’s been on since five.

You modestly and unassumingly

Creep in. I slowly come alive.

My neck is slightly sore, the symptom

Of a migraine. You massage it.

Then because the body needs it

And you’re sensitive, your fragrant hand,

Like a corsage, begins to find,

Explore my spine.

There’s music in the background and,

Before we know it, there we are

Moving, dancing in the bed.

Lovely and exciting rhythms

Form our future memoir.

Up and down, the rose bedspread

Awry, we minuet and smile,

Closely dancing all the while.

And, oh, how we enjoy the time

Willingly exploited, using

Hands and even feet to prime

The other’s total health, the boozing,

Bruising done by others non-existent.

How we’ve laughed! Now I’m awake.

I feel like a griddlecake.

Or eggs and steak?

The dance in bed not inconsistent

With the need to eat,

The music’s beat

Now slow, now fast, the background broadcast

Perfect prologue to a breakfast.


Dancing In The Bed 5.5.1996

Love Relationships; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin



My Three Loves: Silly Reflections Of A Serious Mind

My Three Loves: Silly Reflections Of A Serious Mind


Three loves: one human, two machines.

Two nameless helpmates

And one named.

(I’m so ashamed.

I hope that in a pinch

I do remember which is which).

My dear who breathes but isn’t here

To see these words, I do so love you.

Feel secure.

You’re number one. But number two

These days, sits here

Before my eyes,

Upon my thighs,

Relation intimate.

Number three:

Entirety in music,

With its limitation only me,

Sits waiting, to be turned on

When I’m hot.

My keyboard and my laptop are not


But they’ve become my heart,

A part

Of art,

A channel for the good and true,

Reflecting phases in the ways-es

Human beings cannot do.

(Just so

That you know

You’re not forsaken.)


My Three Loves…7.15.2007

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Love Relationships; Circling Round Computers;

Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin







Words I Love 2008

Words I Love




Put together

I feel

Nothing’s ever

Going wrong.

That it’s timed

And working out;

All timed,

And most of all,

A gift from nowhere.


Words I Love 8.4.2008

Love Relationships; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin


Cremated 2012/2013


She died on Sunday.

Now it’s Wednesday.

She’s already gone: cremated.

Ash is left.  Is all.

Is she?  Well,

Riddle, question, mystery:

Is she… is she…is she?  We are

In tears.  Tears little matter.

Tears little matter.

Disappeared and scattered;
Where? What sphere?  Not here.

Cremated.  The memor-

ial (who for?)

Is Friday.

Atoms shatter.

In these clatter-days of peacelessness,

The waters of belief, one’s faith

In ever-changing, never-dying form

Is of the essence.

Out of harm’s infernal ways

Is the essential matter.

Atheists say, “gone is gone”.

It’s thornier for faithful ones,

For faith is blind – like love.

Cremated, but above,

She is.

Cremated 10.24.2012/3.5.2013

Birth, Death & In Between I, II; Special People, Special Occasions; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

For Marilyn

Saying Yes Not Saying No 2012

Saying Yes Not Saying No


I don’t say no.


Laid back,

A tired rag just letting go.

It’s morning and I do not even know

The time.

By simply being, there in freedom,

No program, no idiom,

Body’s lower parts

Have been re-shaped,

Re-formed, conformed

By simply being –

And attentive.

There are tools and sensibilities not there in unformed youth;

A mystery the finest sleuth could never solve


He/she learned to say yes:

Saying yes

Not saying no.



Saying Yes Not Saying No 10.3.2012

Circling Round Eros II; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

Everyone 2012



Everyone likes sex –

More or less.

Everyone has breasts –

Less or


Everyone a fifi (pronounced feefee) –

Or a wiwi (pronounced weewee)

More or less.

Everyone needs love

Not ‘likes’ or ‘has’ but needs  .

It’s not a question of how much,



Of course,

It’s obvious.


To summarize

There is

An everyone

To which and whom

The last applies.

With no exception.


Everyone 9.23.2012

Love Relationships; Circling Round Eros II;

Arlene Corwin

Constantly Flirting 2012

Constantly Flirting


How to keep the bloom in bloom?

He does it, pinching, touching with a charm

And lightness, warmth and humor.

Never indiscreet or gauche

He knows the secret.

Sensitive to ‘no’,  one never would

Say ‘no’ since he

Keeps flower in bloom, the flame aglow

You could say singlehandedly.

Though unexceptional, he’s got the grace

That covers his caresses with affection delicate.

It would be base to stub it out or starve it dry,

Withering and smothering the bloom and fire,

The constant flirting.


Constantly Flirting 8.11.2012

Circling Round Eros II; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

Love Relationships Change 2011

Love Relationships Change


Love relationships transform:

Their own dynamic force;

Their own dynamics:

So do you.

In the bath (as is my wont)

I think about

My mother, dead

Since two-thou…  something, and I think:

She did so much for me, I dread

To think: harp lessons,

Voice, piano…

Someone who had

Only reached the seventh grade,

Then out to work – a teenage maid.

Sewed me clothes,

Gave and goodness knows…

From love’s concern,

Burned for Arlene.

How to measure wounds and hurts,

Faults versus virtue

Against the sacrifice and faith:

On a scale of support,

It’s sudden insight,

One repents.


Love Relationships Change 8.10.20112012

Love Relationships; Circling Round Baths; Mother Book;

Arlene Corwin




Why Doesn’t He Finish 2012

Why Doesn’t He Finish?


Clever, talented, inventive:

Why doesn’t he finish?

Builds, designs, creates until

The final stage.  Steps left

Unpainted, ceiling too;

Lights unconnected so the view

Is partial.  Guests don’t notice.

Nor does he.  He does, but has excuse

After excuse, and if

One should suggest, albeit grace-


One is a witch who does not highly

Value what’s been done.

All that one

Can do right after is to write

And thus complete

The corpus, its collections,

This one call Relationships:

Love’s Interactions.



One’s washed the kitchen floor –

Something accused and used

As counter-claim.


One’s glum,

Which is unusual

For one.


Why Doesn’t He Finish 6.7.2012

Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

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